


Breathe Life Into Me

by UpsideAround



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Post-Squip, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-02 07:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11504595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UpsideAround/pseuds/UpsideAround
Summary: The combination of emotional fragility and a high sex drive isn't a good combination for Michael Mell. No other emotional cocktail would have intoxicated him enough to make such a bad decision.The problem was, it really didn't seem like a bad decision in the moment, did it?(An AU where Rich runs into Michael in his search for Mountian Dew Red)





	1. Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly not sure if this counts as slow burn, but there's supposed to be feelings n shit later, and "slow burn" is the tag that fits this scenario best
> 
> Tagged as "author chose not to archive warnings" because I wasn't sure if this counted as underage or not. No other warnings apply
> 
> Okay so I've got this beast plotted out, and I've written chapter 2 already
> 
> I'll try to post as often as possible!

_And I thought Chole was jealous…_

_I think you’re pissed I have a SQUIP and you don’t!_

_Get out of my way. Loser._

_Loser. Loser. Get out of my way. Get out of my way, you loser. You’re such a loser—get out of my way._

_Get out, loser._

Michael was absolutely exhausted. Jeremy’s words played on a loop in his mind.

He couldn’t think of anything else. He just wanted to collapse again, convince himself he didn’t really care what Jeremy thought, and then sleep for twenty years.

But he couldn’t do that.

People would start to knock if he didn’t get out soon. Despite his exhaustion, Michael pulled himself up off the ground.

There was something about the tiredness that came after a breakdown that just couldn’t be helped by anything other than a long nap. He needed to get home.

Michael stared at himself in the mirror, willing the redness under his eyes to disappear. He fanned his eyes, desperately trying to dry the tears from his eyelashes.

He just needed to get out of this godforsaken bathroom and go home.

He took a deep breath and unlocked the door, hoping he looked less conspicuous than the felt.

Of course, as soon as he opened the door, he was immediately run over by Rich.

“What the hell?” Michael said, stumbling and trying to catch his balance.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be at this party,” Rich observed.

“Well done. You get an A in ‘unneeded information’. I was leaving anyway,” Michael said, staring at Rich with a deadpan expression.

“Woah, woah, woah, wait,” Rich said, holding Michael back. “This is very important.”

Michael stared at Rich.

“Do you have any Mountain Dew Red?”

“Not with me, no.” Michael tried to duck past Rich, but Rich blocked him again.

“You have some? Please, I need it,” Rich said, gripping onto Michael’s shoulder.

“Are you drunk? I have it at my house, not here.”

Rich hummed. “I’ll go to your house!”

Michael thought Rich had lost his damn mind. “You’ll...You know what? Okay. Fine. Let’s go.”

Rich finally let go, and Michael rushed out of the hallway. Maybe Rich was too drunk to keep up.

He wasn’t—Michael speed-walked around the block to his car, and Rich didn’t even stumble.

Michael unlocked his car. “Dude, what is the deal?”

Rich stood stock still. “I need Mountian Dew Red.”

Michael sighed, ignoring the way his throat was knotting up again. “Why, though? Why can’t you just go back into the party house with the party kids and leave me alone? Why can’t you just let me go home and forget this day ever happened?”

“Because I need to get rid of my SQUIP before it comes back online and tries to get me to do something else I don’t want to,” Rich said quietly.

“Red Mountain Dew shuts it off?” Michael swung his door open. “Get in, I’ll get you the stuff.”

Rich scrambled into the car. “Hurry.”

Michael turned the key and slammed on the gas.

—

Michael pressed the legs of the ladder into the bush under his window.

“Okay,” Michael said, “You need to keep quiet, I wasn’t supposed to be out tonight.”

Rich made a zipping motion over his lips.

Michael sighed. Okay.

He began climbing up the ladder. Once at the top, he pushed open his window and rolled inside. He motioned for Rich to follow him.

Surprisingly, Rich landed on his floor rather gracefully. Or quietly, rather. Michael was grateful for that.

Michael closed his window. “Stay here, I’ll go get the Mountian Dew.”

Michael tip-toed out of his room and slipped outside though the side door. He took down the ladder and replaced it in the shed before slipping back inside.

He locked the door behind him and walked down to the basement. He grabbed a can of the Mountain Dew Red from the fridge and ran back upstairs.

“Okay, I’ve got it,” Michael said, re-entering the room.

Rich was sitting on Michael’s bed.

“Make yourself welcome, I guess.”

Rich gestured around him. “I tried to.”

Michael sighed. “Yeah, I noticed. Here,” he said, popping open the can of Mountain Dew. He held it out to Rich.

Rich snatched it out of Michael’s hand. He looked at the can thoughtfully. “Here goes nothing,” he said before chugging the whole can.

Nothing happened for a moment. Then—

“Oh my god,” Rich said, flinching somewhat. “Oh my god,” he repeated, pressing one hand to his head. His other hand trembled as he gripped the can, crushing the sides of the can in.

Michael watched as a corner of the can began to cut into Rich’s hand. He reached forward and pryed the can out of Rich’s grip.

Michael tossed it aside. “Hey, hey, hey, Rich, are you alright?”

Rich was now clutching his head with both of his hands. “Gah! Oh my g—” he doubled over, muffling his screech into a high-pitched whine.

Michael grabbed Rich’s shoulders and rocked him onto his bed. “Rich, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Rich collapsed.

Everything went still.

“Oh, no, no, please tell me I did not just kill Richard Goranski,” Michael said, frantically trying to find a pulse.

He pressed his fingers to Rich’s neck. _Beat. Beat. Beat_.

Michael slouched with relief.

He was still exhausted, but at least he didn’t kill anyone.

Of course, Rich was still on his bed, so now Michael couldn’t even get to sleep.

Perfect.

Michael sighed and picked up his video game controller.

—

It was one-thirty in the morning when Michael finally heard Rich groan and shift on his bed.

“Hey,” Michael said, turning around. “You alright?”

Rich groaned. “My head hurts like a son of a bitch.” He tapped his forehead. “But I don’t think there’s anybody in there, anymore.”

Michael blinked. “You sound different.”

Rich shrugged and sat up. “I guess the lisp I had freshman year is back.”

Michael gaped at Rich. “You’ve had that thing in your head since freshman year?”

Rich winced and pressed his hands to his temples. “Not so loud, please.”

“Sorry,” Michael said quietly. “This might be weird, but do you want a facial massage? It used to help my headaches.”

Rich stared at Michael. “A facial massage? As in, a massage on my face?”

Michael shrugged. “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay. Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“Great. Scoot over,” Michael said, getting up from his chair and shooing Rich to one side of the bed.

Michael placed one hand on Rich’s forehead to brace him and started massaging the back of Rich’s neck, working his way toward his ears.

Rich all but collapsed into Michael. “Oh my god, you are instant headache relief.”

Michael grinned. “Jeremy used to get migraines a lot, so I got pretty good at this.”

Jeremy.

Michael tried to ignore the pang in his chest.

Michael felt Rich exhale. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Michael paused.

Honestly? It was because Rich was in his house and he didn’t want to do anything that would wake his parents.

Or maybe it was because Jeremy fucking left him, and the way he was dealing with it was to help annihilate the SQUIPs.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I guess…”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Rich said. “I don’t want to know.”

Michael pulled his hands back.

Rich pulled his head up. “Is that it?”

Michael scoffed. “No, but it’s about to get a hell of a lot more intimate. Don’t freak out.”

Rich rolled his eyes. “I had a supercomputer implanted in my brain for a year and a half. It would take a lot to freak me out.”

Michael grinned and placed his hands on either side of Rich’s face. He began massaging just behind Rich’s temples.

“I can’t believe that fucker gave me a headache as a parting gift,” Rich said.

Michael snorted. He stared at Rich’s forehead as he rubbed small circles into Rich’s scalp.

Rich’s hands were on Michael’s shoulders, bracing himself against the motion of the massage.

The back of Michael’s neck flushed. Michael paused.

He would’ve thought that Rich would pull away as soon as Michael stopped rubbing small circles into his hair.

Michael’s gaze fell, meeting Rich’s eyes. His hands relaxed to the side of Rich’s face.

He started to pull his hands back when Rich cupped his face and Michael found himself suddenly being kissed.

The kiss was over before Michael could even think about it.

“Um,” Michael said, his lips buzzing with electricity.

“I think I might be bisexual,” Rich said, eyes flicking across Michael’s face.

Michael blinked. “Did that really just happen?”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I thought—”

But Michael wasn’t listening. He was staring at Rich’s lips. He watched them move, and he wondered what it would be like to kiss him again. He became all the more conscious of the buzzing in his own lips, and how it was spreading onto his face and down his neck. His whole body craved contact.

He reached around Rich’s neck and pulled him in. He felt Rich relax into the kiss as he ran his hands along the back of Rich’s neck and in his hair.

They broke apart once again. Michael could feel Rich’s breath on his cheek. It was a high better than marijuana.

Michael’s heart beat in his chest for a moment—

—and then Rich was kissing him again, pressing all too close.

Michael couldn’t help it—he fell back onto the bed, one hand holding Rich’s face and the other pulling on the back of Rich’s shirt.

Um, what?

Michael wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Well, he knew what was going on, but he wasn’t sure why he was doing it. It was like he was watching himself make some kind of irreversible mistake.

Michael almost pulled back, but Rich’s hands were already sliding underneath Michael’s shirt as he sucked at Michael’s lower lip, which was making Michael all sorts of crazy.

His mind shut off as every thought was replaced with the sensation of Rich’s hands on his body, of Rich’s lips melting into his, of the blood rushing through Michael’s body as his heart beat faster.

God, the contact was addicting.

And when Rich moved from Michael’s lips to his neck, Michael saw stars.

Rich sucked and nibbled along Michael’s jawline for a moment before moving down further, nudging Michael’s head up.

Michael gripped and locked his hands in Rich’s hair as he watched the ceiling. His body moved and grinded against Rich as he held him closer.

Rich pulled back for a moment and Michael almost spoke up to voice his objection, but Rich moved his hands up from the bottom of Michael’s shirt to his shoulders, pulling Michael’s shirt up.

Michael shook himself and raised his arms to let his shirt slide off and be tossed aside.

Michael felt Rich move down his body, the nibbles and kisses sending blood rushing to his neck and crotch.

Rich paused at Michael’s waistline. “Is this okay?”

Michael felt Rich reach for the button on his jeans. “Yeah,” he breathed.

Rich went lower, and Michael gasped and grabbed his bedpost.

Yeah, that was more than okay.

The sheer excitement of it all almost made Michael forget about the miserable situation he was in. Bottom of the social ladder, and not even his best friend would talk to him anymore.

Michael didn’t want to think about school. He didn’t want to think about how he would react to seeing Jeremy with his new friends. He didn’t want to think about Jeremy, glowing with popularity as Michael was crushed underfoot by high school.

Worst of all, Michael wouldn’t have anybody to tell anything to, anymore. Michael told Jeremy everything. Jeremy told Michael everything. It was a symbiotic relationship, but now the power systems were all jacked up. Jeremy knew everything about Michael’s life—the power Jeremy had over Michael was terrifying.

No, he couldn’t think about that now. Not while Rich was making all kinds of hot noises while his head bobbed up and down on Michael’s dick.

Michael’s fingers tangled in Rich’s hair. “Shi—” he groaned as his orgasm silently rushed through him.

Rich pulled up and moved back.

“Here,” Michael said, sitting up. “Lemme—” he reached forward and fumbled with Rich’s jeans.

“Yeah,” Rich said, moving closer so that Michael could reach a little easier. “I could really use a handjob—You got any lotion?”

“Do I have any lotion,” Michael scoffed. “Who do you think I am?”

Rich leaned forward and started kissing Michael’s neck. “Hurry the fuck up, then.”

“Yep,” Michael said, throwing his arm behind him. He fumbled around until his hand landed on the bottle of lotion he kept by his bed.

 Michael was a little uncertain because he'd only done these types of things to himself, but apparently he wasn’t doing too bad of a job, if Rich’s face and quiet groans were any indication. He built up a rhythm and lost himself in the moment.

Everything was easy here—the bliss of orgasm still fading from his body, a guy moaning in his bed, skin-on-skin contact, and memories from the day tossed to the back of his head. Nothing mattered.

Rich shuddered and relaxed.

Michael took a moment to breathe.

Jesus, had he really just lost his virginity to Richard Gornaski? Does a blowjob and reciprocal handjob count as a loss of virginity?

Michael sighed and collapsed onto his bed. Rich pulled back and layed next to Michael.

All the heat was gone; their sweaty arms were pressed up against each other as they both layed side-by-side on Michael’s twin sized bed.

Michael opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. He stared up at the ceiling. He watched his fan spin in place.

He got up to turn off the light, then got back on top of his bed.

He stared up at the ceiling for awhile longer. Rich’s clammy skin didn’t make Michael any more comfortable.

He shut his eyes, trying to ignore the awful feeling settling in his stomach.


	2. Agitate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is ready for yall! I'm churning these out as fast as I can

Michael woke up first. His alarm blared in his ear as he groaned and fumbled around, trying to shut it off.

For one blissful second, he didn’t remember the night before.

Of course, then he felt Rich’s sweaty arm stuck to his side, and everything came crashing down at once.

The party. Jeremy. The bathroom. The hallway. Rich. The Mountain Dew Red. Rich. Rich’s mouth, which had been on his mouth, and then on his—

Michael internally cringed and pressed his hands to his forehead. He pulled himself out of bed and stood up.

He stood there for a moment, staring at Rich, who was still passed out.

Well. Michael certainly felt different.

He threw on a shirt and buttoned his jeans. He felt gross, but there literally wasn’t time for a shower if he wanted to make it to school on time. He was still completely and utterly exhausted as well, so that didn’t make anything any better.

He turned around his room. Keys, on his desk. Backpack, in the corner. Phone—

Michael panicked, patting his pockets. Nothing. On the desk, then? No. Well, where else could it—

—in the car. Michael remembered tossing it into the backseat the night before. He sighed with relief.

Michael snatched up his keys and backpack. He contemplated waking Rich up, but shrugged and went to brush his teeth.

When he came back, he stood next to his bed and stared at Rich for a moment. There was no way he’d want to go back to school today, right? His head was probably still killing him, and he was most likely just as exhausted as Michael was.

Michael snatched the post-it notes from his desk.

_Ibprophen in kitchen cabinets. My parents will be out of the house by 8._

He stuck the note to Rich’s hand and grabbed his backpack before turning and leaving for school.

—

School was worse.

Every light seemed too bright, but Michael struggled to keep his eyes open in the dark.

He was tired, so, so tired. His bones were metal, weighing him down. Everything ached, and it took all of Michael’s willpower not to find a quiet place to lie down and just pass out.

The world was a colorful blur around him, too busy and too loud. All the voices became a slush of screams, laughter and shouts. Michael was the only thing stuck in place.

The only time the world stopped spinning and came into focus was during the passing period before math.

Michael saw Jeremy at the end of the hall and everything went still.

Jeremy was walking with his backpack over one shoulder, looking straight at Michael. As their eyes locked, Michael’s exhaustion started to slip away. He could tell Jeremy about his crazy night after the party, and maybe Jeremy would judge him, but they could laugh about it later.

Michael opened his mouth to call out to him, but that was when he noticed Chloe had her arm looped around Jeremy’s. She was laughing at something he said, being all too touchy with her reaction.

Jake was right beside Jeremy as well, laughing as he clapped him on the back.

And Jeremy looked fine. He wasn’t uncomfortable, and his eyes were shining.

_Oh, right. I’m the loser,_ Michael thought bitterly. He closed his mouth and turned away.

Math was another experience altogether. It was the first and only class Michael had with Rich, and Michael was hoping that Rich hadn’t found a ride to school. Maybe he could postpone the day where they had to interact again.

Of course, he wasn’t so lucky.

Michael walked into his Pre-Calculus class, saw Rich sitting at his desk, and immediately turned heel and walked out the door.

What the fuck?

Why was he here?

How did he get here?

He stood outside the classroom for a moment, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. Rich was acting like it was no big deal, Michael could do the same.

Michael walked into the classroom again, eyes straight ahead. He took his seat and took his math book out of his backpack and put it on his desk.

He watched Rich out of the corner of his eye. Rich was clicking his pen, and seemed to be more panicked than usual. Michael watched as Rich was startled by the closing of the door as the teacher walked in.

“Alright, everyone, I’ll give you twenty minutes to study, and then we’re taking the test. You will not be allowed to stay after class to finish.”

Michael shook himself and turned his attention to his textbook.

—

Michael really just wanted to get this day over with so he could go home and sleep, but he found himself yanked into a side hallway after math class.

Well, not literally yanked, but it certainly felt like Michael had no choice but to be dragged into a conversation with Rich.

“Yo, Michael,” Rich said, waving Michael over.

Michael sighed and walked closer. “Yeah?”

“What the hell was that?” Rich said, standing with his arms crossed. Michael noticed his foot was tapping.

Michael crossed his arms as well. “I feel like I should be asking you that question.”

Rich scoffed. “What, because I initiated it?”

“Yes!” Michael said, almost throwing his hands in the air, “You made fun of me and Jeremy for years, spreading rumors that we were gay, and then the second you get that, that thing, computer, SQUIP, whatever, out of your head—you realize you’re bi and suck my dick?”

Rich winced. “I don’t know what happened yesterday, okay? It seemed like the best thing to do at the time. I just wanted—”

Rich fell silent, his words apparently caught in his throat. Or maybe he decided he didn’t need to finish his sentence.

“Listen,” Michael said, softer this time. “I really should be getting to my next class, so—”

He turned to walk away but found himself tugged back by Rich grabbing his hand.

“Wait,” Rich said, before tugging Michael closer and kissing him.

All the tension eased out of Michael’s shoulders as his hand fell and he kissed Rich back.

“I just wanted to be attracted to a guy without a voice telling me that it was wrong and people would hate me for it,” Rich said.

Michael nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

“Are you sure you have to go to class?” Rich asked. “We could just stay here and make out for a bit, slip into this closet here,” Rich nodded at the door behind Michael, “And no one would be of the wiser.”

Michael wasn’t sure what made him nod and let himself be led inside the closet.

Maybe he was addicted to the rush of kissing. The fingers in the hair sending sparks of electricity through his whole body. His blood rushing, his heart racing, his senses only focused on one thing.

Maybe he was a horny high schooler and masturbation just wasn’t the same.

Either way, Michael found himself in the dark closet, pressing up against Rich.

Rich made little noises while they were kissing, and Michael thought it was pretty fucking hot. He hadn’t noticed that last time.

Michael didn’t know when it happened, but he was pressed against the wall as Rich sucked on his bottom lip. Michael’s hands were entangled in Rich’s hair.

Rich’s hand slipped into Michael’s pants.

Michael’s heart stopped. He pulled back. “I don’t want to do this,” he said.

He couldn’t do this.

He got too attached, too easily. He dove in headfirst without thoughts of consequences. Some people could maybe pull off the whole friends-with-benefits thing, but Michael Mell was not one of them.

Not to mention Michael was hugely inexperienced, and there was no way he could continue to be an asset to Rich. At some point, it was inevitable that Rich would turn on him. Michael would be a liability, and there was nothing to prevent Rich from outing him to the whole school to protect his social standing.

And god, the thought of either of those things made Michael’s blood run cold.

Rich froze. “What?”

“I don’t want this,” Michael said quietly. “I don’t want to be your call-boy, or whatever. Just because I’m the only gay kid you know doesn’t make me your booty call.”

Besides, he couldn’t get distracted now. The SQUIP was destroying Jeremy, and now that Michael knew what the cure was, he had to concentrate on getting to Jeremy. He needed to come up with a plan before things got any worse. He had no wish to see Jeremy lose his mind.

Rich moved back. “Alright.”

Michael gave Rich a curt nod before swinging the door open and walking out.

—

Tired, upset, and a little turned on was not the best combination of moods, but at least Michael wasn’t hungry anymore.

He always felt a little better at lunchtime.

Maybe the lunch was what gave him the bravest to march over to where Jeremy sat with his new friends and demand to speak with him.

“What's going on?” Jeremy asked, once they stepped outside the cafeteria.

“We need to talk,” Michael said. “About Halloween.”

Jeremy shrugged. “So talk.”

Michael stared at Jeremy incredulously. “Are you—okay. You don’t have anything to say to me?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Should I?”

Michael clenched his fists. “I thought maybe you might have been drunk, or something, and maybe said something you didn’t mean.”

“Nope.”

Michael felt his world shatter. “Why?” he managed to choke out.

“I don’t want to be the loser kid anymore,” Jeremy said simply.

Michael’s vision went red for a moment, and then his whole world went cold.

“You’ve been a real jerk ever since you got that SQUIP,” Michael said. “I don’t blame Rich for wanting his gone.”

Jeremy blinked. “Wait, Rich doesn’t want his SQUIP?”

“Didn’t. It’s gone now. Turns out, Mountain Dew Red makes them go bzzzt.”

Jeremy didn’t respond.

“So last night, Rich asked me for some Mountain Dew Red, and I gave it to him. Apparently it worked. He got this monstrous headache and then passed out for awhile, though.”

Jeremy’s expression steeled. “So you’re the reason my SQUIP is gone?”

Michael stared at Jeremy. “What?” Jeremy’s SQUIP was gone?

“I can’t believe you,” Jeremy said, his words full of venom now. “This was my one shot to not be a loser anymore, and you just—”

“Jeremy, open your eyes,” Michael said, waving his hands. “That thing was evil! It was ruining your life. It was turning you into someone you’re not.”

“No,” Jeremy said, eyes flashing. “It was making me into the best possible version of myself.”

Michael grabbed Jeremy’s arm. “Jeremy—”

“Don’t touch me,” Jeremy snarled, snatching his arm back. “I don’t want or need your help.”

Jeremy turned and marched off, leaving Michael alone in the hallway.

Michael stood there for a moment.

Jeremy didn’t want him. Didn’t need him.

Bitterly, Michael hoped that Jeremy’s popularity would turn around and bite him in the ass. Then, at least Michael could have the satisfaction of being right.

He stood in the hallway, shell shocked. Every cell in his body wanted to collapse and break down. He wanted to run to his car and drive until he ran out of gas. He wanted to kick the lockers until he broke his foot. He wanted to scream as loud as he could.

Instead, he was frozen. Numb.

He pulled out his phone and watched himself pull up Rich’s contact and type out a text message.

_I’ll drive you home today if you want._

The response was almost immediate.

_Park around the block._

—

Rich was quiet when Michael picked him up.

He didn't try to initiate conversation or hum along to the radio. All he did was pick at his nails and occasionally adjust the way he was sitting.

Michael was grateful. He was running on impulsiveness and the need for human contact; a conversation would require him to justify himself.

Everything was quiet until Michael pulled up into his driveway. Then Rich spoke for the first time that Michael had heard that afternoon.

“This isn’t my house.”

“I know,” Michael said, killing the engine and getting out of the car.

Rich followed Michael out of the car. “Care to explain, then?”

Michael opened his door. “Come on in,” he said.

Rich stared at Michael for a moment before entering the house. “Okay, but I still don’t understand what’s going on h—”

Michael had dropped his backpack and cupped Rich’s face with his hands, pulling him in for a kiss.

He didn't want to think. He didn't want to hurt. He wanted the rush of oxytocin that came with being so closely intimate with another person.

Rich kissed back for a moment before pushing Michael back. “Wait, I thought you said you didn’t want to do this?”

_“It was making me into the best possible version of myself.”_

_“Jeremy—”_

_“Don’t touch me! I don’t want or need your help.”_

“I changed my mind,” Michael said, pulling Rich’s body as close as he could. 


	3. Exhilarate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post chapter 3 early because I wanted more feedback

Michael quickly learned that Rich had a crazy-high sex drive.

Sometimes they’d sneak off into a practice room during play rehearsal to get each other off. Other times, Michael would give Rich a ride home, and then give him a different kind of ride once they got to his house.

Michael was addicted to the touch of Rich’s skin—addicted to the pull of his body, addicted to the rush of pulling him closer to kiss him.

They never spoke more than they needed to.

Michael noticed that Rich preferred to talk with his body, anyway. Instead of saying “do this,” Rich moved Michael’s hands where he wanted them. Instead of saying “stop that,” Rich distracted Michael by kissing him somewhere else.

The days and nights were miserable without Jeremy, but Rich was there to make things just a little better.

He loved the way Rich could make his breath catch by kissing him in just the right way. He loved the way he could turn off his mind for the time they spent together, the way he could feel only the pleasure surging underneath his skin.

Over the weeks, Michael got better with using his body. He stopped feeling so clumsy about himself, and just followed his gut. Guided by Rich, of course.

Michael learned how to give a blowjob on a Saturday night at Rich’s house.

Michael learned how to receive a blowjob—how to grip and caress someone who was going down on you.

His handjobs improved significantly, to the point where he knew how to give it to himself better than ever before.

And Michael no longer had to worry about what counted as “virginity” after he and Rich hooked up after the school play.

They had a sort of rhythm established. When Michael was feeling cut-off or alone in society, he’d text Rich that he wanted to meet up. He never really had to explain himself.

And Rich—Well, Michael honestly couldn’t tell what motivated Rich to hook up with him. Rich knew how to talk without really saying much. Rich hadn’t said anything about the SQUIP, or his popular friends, or anything else with real significance to it.

Michael did notice how Rich would avoid certain words that drew attention to his lisp, though.

Their rhythm only broke after they got their tests back in Pre-Calculus.

Michael aced it, but found himself glancing over at Rich’s paper out of curiosity.

He didn’t need to look at it long to see the red correction marks all over the top page.

Michael settled back into his chair, feeling guilty for some reason.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

Michael looked up to be sure that the teacher was on the other side of the room, then he pulled out his phone under his desk. It was a text from Rich.

_You saw that, didn’t you?_

Michael waved his thumbs over his screen for a moment before shooting back his response.

_Whatcha mean?_

He set his phone down on top of his leg. It buzzed again almost immediately after he set it down.

_My test_

Michael sighed and carefully began typing.

_Didn’t mean to._

Michael didn’t even need to turn off his screen before Rich responded.

_Bullshit_

Michael slipped his phone back into his pocket and tried to ignore the clawing feeling in his chest.

Ten minutes into the lesson, his phone buzzed again. He flinched, startled at the noise, but carefully pulled his phone out again.

Huh. Rich was texting him again.

_Didn’t mean for that to be mean. I just suck at math lmao_

Michael found himself grinning at that. He quickly typed out his response.

_I could tutor you sometime, if you want_

“Michael!”

Michael jumped in his seat and looked up. Ms. Frizzle was glaring down at him.

She held out her hand. “No phones in class.”

Michael turned off his screen and set his phone in her hand before shrinking back into his seat guiltily.

He tried to ignore the snickers of the other students.

She walked off and continued her lesson.

Michael stared at his paper.

Math was the most boring class.

And now Michael didn’t even have his crutch to get him through it. All he could do was stare at the clock and watch the time tick-tick by. He picked up his pencil and began tracing the lines on his notebook paper—all he had to do was get through one hour.

He didn’t even notice that he fell asleep, but the next thing he knew was jerking awake at the sound of the bell ringing.

He rubbed his eyes and grabbed his backpack. He was sweeping his papers into his backpack when Rich approached him.

“Were you serious about that?”

Michael looked up. “The what?”

Rich shoved his hands in his pockets and bounced on his toes. “The, y’know, tutoring.”

Michael paused. “If it’s too weird because of our thing, then—”

“No, that’s fine. I wouldn’t mind.”

Michael stared at Rich. Rich, who was looking past Michael instead of at him. Rich, who was standing a solid four feet away. Rich, who was actually asking him about something significant. Michael hardly knew how to react—Rich had never asked him for help before.

This whole exchange was weird.

“Well,” Michael said slowly. “We could meet in the library.”

Rich winced. “Not the library.”

Michael paused, trying to ignore the punch to his gut. “Okay, we can meet at your house, then?”

“Sure. The usual time?”

Michael nodded, and that was the end of that conversation.

—

“What the hell,” Rich said, jabbing a finger at the textbook, “is the difference between a quadratic line and an exponential line?”

They were at Rich’s house, sitting on the floor, with a textbook flipped open between them. Rich was staring intensely at the textbook, as if he could understand everything if he just slammed his head into it. Michael was getting a little tired of explaining the same concept twenty different ways.

At least they didn’t have to worry about any meddling parents; Rich’s family was out of town for the week.

“The exponential function approaches a line, but never crosses it,” Michael said, tracing the graph with his mechanical pencil.

“So does that one,” Rich said, pointing at the quadratic function.

“Now you’re just fucking with me,” Michael said.

Rich scoffed. “I’m not! Look at that line—” he pointed along the graph, “—it approaches this invisible line, but never crosses it.”

Michael got up and sat behind Rich. He almost rested his chin on Rich’s shoulder, but thought better of it.

“The difference is—” Michael drew along the parabola, “—this one comes to a point and then comes back. The other one doesn’t.”

Rich sighed and slouched back into Michael. “It’s official. I’m failing math.”

Michael didn’t know what to say to that, so he just started planting kisses along Rich’s jawline.

Rich pulled back. “I actually need the math help.”

“C’mon,” Michael said, inching his fingers under Rich’s shirt, “this is the easy unit, we can take a break.”

“Like hell we can,” Rich said, pulling down his shirt and pushing Michael’s hand away.

Michael didn’t respond. His hand was frozen in the air.

“Sorry,” Rich said, running his hand through his hair, “The SQUIP would always just give me the answers and I—”

Michael’s heart twinged at that. He had almost forgotten about the SQUIP. He couldn’t imagine what Rich was going through, and they certainly weren’t close enough for him to ask about it.

It made him feel bad, though. He liked to help people—he liked to be that rock, the friend you can count on.

Michael set down the pencil. Rich avoided his eyes, staring intensely at the paper. Michael noticed Rich’s hands were shaking ever so slightly.

Maybe they didn’t have to hook up for Michael to make Rich feel better.

Michael reached forward and rested his hand on Rich’s arm. “You’re thinking too hard about it. You got this.”

Rich took a shaky breath. “Explain it again.”

Michael picked up the pencil.

—

School was wack, but Michael really wasn’t paying attention, anyway.

 _Can you take me home tonight?_ was Michael’s most recent text from Rich. Well, almost the most recent. Rich had followed up that message with a winky face.

Having a message like that waiting in his phone was making Michael antsy. He couldn’t really concentrate on anything his chemistry teacher was saying, all he could think about was running to his car (which he regularly parked around the block now) and tugging Rich up to his bedroom.

Michael loved the skin-on-skin contact, and Rich had such a way of turning him on, it was unreal. He almost couldn’t think when Rich was kissing him. It was exciting, fun, and blew him away.

As soon as the bell rang, he was out of the classroom.

He didn’t run to his car, per se, but he definitely did not drag his feet.

Rich was already leaning up against the side of his car when Michael got there.

“Hey,” Michael said.

“Hey,” Rich said, moving to stand back from the car.

Michael opened the driver-side door and clicked to open the rest of the doors.

Rich got in as Michael tossed his stuff to the back seat.

“Your place?” Rich asked.

“Yep,” Michael said, staring straight ahead as he turned on the engine.

—

They hardly made it in the front door before Rich tugged Michael in by the hips.

Michael kissed back before pressing his hand up against Rich’s chest. “You can’t even make it up to my bedroom?”

“Not when you’re kissing me like that,” Rich said.

Michael grinned and rolled his eyes. “C’mon,” he said, backing away and pulling Rich down the hall.

Once they turned the corner, Michael blindly closed the door as Rich pressed his body closer against Michael’s.

Michael felt Rich raise one hand to cup his face.

It would have been nice, except Michael felt Rich’s hand tremble and shake against his cheek.

Michael opened his eyes. He ran his hand down Rich’s arm and gripped his hand. “Everything alright?”

Rich exhaled. “Fine.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I’m fine,” Rich said stiffly. He looked up and shot a glare at Michael that sent a shock of electricity all the way to his toes.

Michael opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Rich ran his hand along the back of Michael’s neck and up into his hair. “I’m fine,” he said again, twisting and tugging Michael’s hair gently.

Michael shuddered as his knees went weak. He gripped Rich as he pulled him back in.

Hands exploring, mouths meeting, hearts racing.

Yep, hooking up was fun.

—

“Alright class, settle down,” Ms. Frizzle said as she shut the door. “Strap in, because today we’re diving into the differences between exponential functions and quadratic functions.”

“Bless you,” piped up a kid in the back row.

Ms. Frizzle narrowed her eyes. “Would you care to explain the difference between the two?”

Michael didn’t have to turn around to know that the kid was slinking back into his seat.

Ms. Frizzle clapped her hands. “I’m so excited! We’ve covered these separately, but I think it’s just so fascinating to compare them!” She grabbed her marker and drew a graph on the board. “Now, a parabola is made with a quadratic function. Watch as it—” she drew the beginning of a U-shape, “—hits a point and bounces back. The exponential function won’t do that.”

Michael almost grinned at that. It was the same thing he had told Rich the other day—almost word-for-word.

Rich coughed and caught Michael’s eye. He pointed at his temple, and then flicked it toward the board.

When Rich smiled at him, Michael’s heart stopped.

—

“Hey Rich,” Michael said, carefully tasting his words in his mouth.

He had thought this conversation through a thousand times, and his stomach still surged with anxiety as soon as he said it.

Rich pulled away from Michael’s neck.

“Why are we doing this?”

Rich leaned back and shrugged. “It’s fun and easy.”

Michael sighed. “No, why are you really doing this?”

Rich stared at him for a moment. He took a breath as if to say something, but stopped. “Do you want to stop?”

Michael felt his face flush. “No, I just—”

“Then don’t worry about it,” Rich said, stopping Michael’s brain with a kiss.

Michael relaxed as his heart soared.

Kissing and touching was hot. It was fun. It was addictive, and nothing else about what he had with Rich usually made him nervous, or made his heart beat hard in his chest. Usually, the only thing that made his heart speed up was when Rich was turning him on.

Usually.

This time, when Rich kissed him, Michael’s heart was racing for an entirely different reason. 


	4. Anticipate

Michael looked over at Rich.

Rich, who was passed out his bed, one arm propping his head up and the other draped over the side of the bed. The dark red light of the setting sun bled into the room, washing Rich’s face in a rosy glow.

Michael was spinning back and forth in Rich’s computer chair, trying to ignore the way his heart kept doing a cartwheel every time he glanced at Rich.

The fan made a gentle _tick-tick-tick_ sound as a small breeze cooled Michael’s face. He grinned and sighed, looking up at the ceiling as he spun in the chair.

He looked over at Rich again, who was drooling gracefully.

He had looked so tired this afternoon.

_Michael traced the edges of Rich’s face with his fingertips. The bags under Rich’s eyes did not escape his attention._

_“Hurry up and kiss me, already,” Rich said, sighing._

_Michael pulled Rich closer, gripping him firmly as Rich seemingly collapsed into the kiss._

Michael wondered when the last time Rich really slept was.

He couldn’t help it—he got up and sat down on the bed next to Rich. He picked up Rich’s hand gently and moved it to a position that looked more comfortable. He brushed the hair out of Rich’s face, careful not to wake him up.

God, that would be embarrassing. Imagine Rich’s reaction—waking up to Michael stroking his hair out of his eyes. Michael didn’t know how he would react, considering their “relationship”, but he figured it wouldn’t be good.

Michael shook himself and smiled at Rich one last time before getting up and grabbing a blanket from the floor. He tossed it over Rich.

Michael gathered his stuff and left quietly.

—

Michael sat in the back of the chemistry classroom, bouncing his leg as he watched the ticking of the clock.

He couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday night. Not the sex, although that was pretty great, but the afterward. Rich had kissed him sloppily and fell back onto his bed immediately after.

He fought back a grin.

He glanced around the classroom. His eyes landed on Jeremy in the front of the classroom and all the giddiness melted out of him.

He forced himself to look away.

Back to Rich.

Michael stared back up at the clock. He thought about Rich’s lips, the softness of his skin, ignoring the way Jeremy’s voice kept swimming into his mind.

_Get out of my way, loser._

Rich’s hands. The way he pulled Michael close and held on tight. The softness of his fingertips—and the way they sent sparks down Michael’s spine.

_So you’re the reason my SQUIP is gone?_

Rich’s neck. Michael loved to kiss down his neck, listening to all the tiny noises that Rich would try not to make. He loved the feel of his skin, the way Rich would run his hands through Michael’s hair...

_I don’t want or need you—_

The bell rang.

Michael snatched his papers up and shoved them in his backpack.

He rushed out of the classroom, wiping his mind of any stupid thoughts. He focused only on getting to his next class, now, dashing out the door and only stopping when—

—Jeremy met his eyes from across the hallway.

They stood there for a moment. Michael’s jaw almost dropped. He exhaled, swallowed, and tightened his jaw. He was frozen there, staring at Jeremy who did nothing but stare back.

“Mike—Michael—”

Jeremy was suddenly on the other side of the hallway, standing right in front of Michael.

“Yes?” Michael asked shortly.

“Michael, I don’t—I don’t even know how to say this, but I’m—” Jeremy went silent. He stood there for a moment, staring at some point above Michael’s head.

Michael raised an eyebrow.

“I’m—I…” Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. “Michael, I just—I’m in too deep. I can’t keep doing this.”

Michael almost scoffed. He really should have just turned and walked away right then and there. Instead, the awful, angry, upset part of himself stamped its foot and reared its head.

“Okay, that’s great,” Michael said. “I’m so glad you need me, now that things are rough.” He scoffed. “I’m so glad to be worthy of your friendship, now that you don’t have it easy.”

Jeremy blinked and reared back from Michael. “Michael, I…”

“Do me a favor,” Michael said, adjusting his footing, “Don’t talk to me unless you can at least apologize first.”

It was only after Michael walked away that he even wondered why Jeremy hadn’t turned his SQUIP back on.

That thing could offer better advice than Michael ever could, anyway.

—

Okay, so Jeremy was going to keep being an emotionally stunted bitch.

That was fine.

Michael was fine with that.

He stared at the top-left corner of the white board, forcing himself to breathe steadily. The teacher droned on about something, but all Michael heard was static.

The nerve.

Jeremy had the fucking nerve to come ask him for help, after leaving him alone at a stranger’s party, calling him a loser (twice), and insisting he didn’t need any help from Michael.

Michael’s vision blurred in front of him. He shook himself and tightened his grip on his chair.

It’s not like Michael didn’t want to help Jeremy. He just wished Jeremy could have the fucking decency to treat him like they were friends since elementary school, and not like something disposable.

He raised his hand. “Can I go to the restroom?”

The teacher nodded and Michael slipped out of the classroom.

He marched on in the hallway, continually combing his hair back with his fingers.

He didn’t go to the restroom.

He swung open a door and went outside, the cool air nipping at his face.

“Yo, Mell, what the hell are you doing out here?”

Michael looked up. Rich was walking down the sidewalk toward him.

“Trying to refrain from finding Jeremy Heere and socking him in the face.”

Rich grimaced. “You’d get suspended.”

Michael sighed. “Yeah, that’s why I said I was trying to refrain from punching him.”

Rich laughed. “Good luck with that. I’ll see you in math, yeah?” Rich said, flashing Michael a grin and walking off.

Michael spun around, watching Rich retreat into the school building.

His childhood friend may be a piece of shit, but at least was getting it on with a hot guy on the regular.

Michael took another deep breath, sucking in the chilly air. He exhaled slowly before turning and going back to class.

—

Michael drew a graph on the paper. “Like this, you see?”

Rich groaned and fell back onto the floor. “I hate math.”

They were in Rich’s bedroom, working through another unit that Rich had apparently fallen asleep during. Or something like that. Michael wasn’t entirely sure how much the SQUIP had actually just done for Rich, and how much Rich just never did in the first place.

“No, it’s easy, I promise,” Michael said, drawing a new X and Y axis. “You try.”

Rich sighed and sat back up. “Okay, so how do I do this? I draw this...here?”

Michael nodded. “Except, try this,” he said, scooting closer, “if you plot the graph like this, then you can—”

Rich wasn’t listening. He had started to kiss and nibble on Michael’s ear.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked.

Rich paused. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I can’t teach you when you’re doing that,” Michael said, squirming back.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Rich said.

Michael blinked at Rich, his neck prickling. “Like, puppy-cute, or take-off-your-shirt-cute?”

Rich grinned. “Second one.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, nodding, “Yeah, okay, I can be down for that.” He grabbed his shirt from the back and pulled it over his head. He tossed it aside.

Rich dragged his fingers along Michael’s arm, sending shivers down Michael’s spine. He paused at the back of Michael’s neck for a moment, before spreading his fingers through Michael’s hair and pulling him in.

Michael felt his body move closer to Rich. He held Rich as their lips locked tightly. Michael felt Rich run a hand down the front of his chest, sending waves of heat and pleasure directly into Michael’s bloodstream.

Rich pulled back. “God, I love your body,” he said, eyeing Michael up and down.

Michael tensed. “It’s nothing special.”

“No, I mean like,” Rich leaned back in and planted a few kisses from Michael’s neck to his shoulder, “I can do this now.”

What?

Michael furrowed his eyebrows. “You couldn’t kiss me before?”

“Nah. Well, not you specifically. I meant the whole…” Rich exhaled shortly, “The whole bi thing.” Rich wasn’t looking at Michael anymore. He stared into a corner of the room over Michael's shoulder. “Stupid SQUIP,” he muttered.

“Woah, woah, woah, wait—did that thing stop you from liking guys?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Rich’s eyes flicked back to Michael for a split-second. “Just shut up while I kiss you, okay?”

“Yep, okay,” Michael said as Rich began to kiss along his jawline, “Shutting up now. Sounds good.”

Rich moved from Michael’s jawline to his neck, kissing and sucking. Michael ran his hands through Rich’s hair, fully aware that Rich was probably leaving him with some bright red marks.

He didn’t care.

Rich started kissing down the side of Michael’s neck, moving toward his stomach. Michael squirmed as Rich started nibbling on the sensitive part of his stomach, edging closer to his pant line.

Michael planted his hands behind him as Rich moved lower. Rich tugged Michael’s pants down.

Michael's hand slipped on a piece of notebook paper. He almost tossed it aside, but instead he picked it up and looked at it.

“Don't you think we, ah, need to get back to math?”

Rich pulled away and looked up slowly. “I’m about to put your dick in my mouth, and that’s what you wanna say?”

Michael flushed. “No, I mean…”

He trailed off into silence.

Rich raised an eyebrow at him.

Michael sighed. “Okay, yeah, you’re right, math is stupid and you’re hot.”

Michael felt Rich grin as he kissed Michael’s stomach. “That’s what I thought.”

—

Everything was going so well with Rich.

Nobody knew about their “relationship”, and honestly Michael preffered it to stay that way. They would meet up, hook up, and Michael would walk away feeling on top of the world. Or Rich would leave and Michael would be elated for the rest of his evening.

He couldn’t help but feel that everything was going a little too well.

What was that saying? Everything that can go wrong will go wrong?

No. The other one.

If it’s too good to be true, it probably isn’t true.

That one.

Michael brushed his worries aside. He was probably just convincing himself that something was wrong, anyway. He didn’t want to become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

At least Rich was doing better in math. Their tutoring sessions, as much as they got distracted during them, seemed to be actually helping. Rich’s grade went back up.

Michael thought they could do it forever. Or at least until the end of the school year. Hook up, make out, learn math, and not let any emotions get in the way. He thought he had a handle on his little crush. He thought Rich had a handle on his popularity.

Michael should have known better.

Everything began to unravel during one of their math classes. Ms. Frizzle had given the class some in-class homework, but the condition was that it was significantly more difficult than what they would get for at-home homework. Michael wasn’t struggling too hard with it; he breezed through it. On a whim, he glanced over at Rich.

Rich was staring at his paper intensely.

Michael scooted his chair over. “Try graphing this, then you can solve for x,” he said, pointing at the equation with his pencil.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rich said rather loudly.

Michael jerked back. “What?”

“I don’t need your help, mister nosy-Nancy.”

Michael’s blood ran cold. “Fine,” he said, backing away and slouching back in his chair.

All he was trying to do was help. If Rich didn’t want his help—that was fine. It had to be fine.

It would be fine, he told himself, trying to swallow down the dread that surged in his chest.

Michael sat in his math class, digging his pencil into his paper, watching his world fall apart. He stood stock still, praying that nobody would notice the way his knuckles were turning white as he gripped his pencil.

He thought he had been helping Rich. He thought they had a routine established, a routine that they were both happy with. He thought—

He didn’t even get an explanation until he got home from school.

Michael’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Rich. He almost laughed, it was so absurd.

_Hey you know I didn’t mean what I said in math, right?_

Michael punched out his response.

_Sure_.

Michael stood there for a moment, a pit of rage settling in his stomach. He clenched his phone so hard his hands were shaking.

He threw his phone across the room, ignoring the way it cracked against the wall. It started to ring. Michael didn’t make a move to go answer. The shrill sound of Rich’s incoming call made his skin crawl.


	5. Encapsulate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little bit shorter, but hopefully what I've got planned for the next chapter will make up for it

The first thing Michael did the next morning was deciding he needed a less annoying alarm clock.

He woke up to his alarm screeching at him, and could barely hold his eyes open long enough to hit snooze. He didn’t even register the new day until his alarm went off for the third time.

He hit the snooze button again and rolled out of bed. He layed on his floor, entangled in his blankets, for a couple seconds before groaning and pulling himself into a sitting position.

And then he remembered his anger from last night. He remembered his headache, and he remembered the painful tear residue that had formed in his eyes overnight.

He should have known better than to cry before bed. He rubbed his eyes, wincing as he wiped the crust out of his eye. Every twinge of pain made the pit in his stomach a little bit deeper.

He remembered Rich and his stupid sneer.

A bitter taste filled Michael’s mouth as he scraped his blankets off of himself, suddenly disgusted by their soft warmth. He stood up and ran his hands through his hair a couple times before looking at the time.

He snatched his phone off of his desk and stared at the digits glowing back at him.

He blinked. He looked again.

The knot in his stomach was getting worse.

He pressed his eyes shut and scrubbed his face.

6:40.

That was 15 minutes to get ready if he drove, and five minutes to get ready if he rode the bus.

Michael glanced around the room. He had no memory of where his keys went. He ran over to his desk, but there was nothing but a colossal mess of papers. He ran over to his bookshelf. Only a stack of half-open video games were there.

Michael’s alarm clock started to screech again.

Michael ran back over to his desk and started tossing his stuff around, searching desperately for his keys. The awful screaming of his alarm clock tightened the knot at the bottom of his stomach.

In one powerful motion, Michael pushed everything off of the top of his desk.

Pencils, paper, and decorations alike fell to the floor. Something snapped. Something else crunched.

Michael stood there, breathing heavily.

The alarm clock screeched for a few more seconds, and then stopped.

He would just ride the bus today.

—

Michael needed to call it off.

It wasn’t good, this thing he had with Rich. It wasn’t doing anyone any good.

It was risky, first of all. They could be caught. Michael didn’t know how well the school would take the news that he was gay. He had no intent to find out.

Mind made up, Michael marched into school that day with a new vigor.

It had all been worth it; the sneaking around, the secrecy, all of it. It had been worth it for the longest time. When they were together, Michael got to watch the stress melt out of Rich’s eyes. He got to feel the stress leave his own body. Stress was replaced with a warm, sweet feeling. It had been worth it.

But not anymore.

Apparently, it was too much for Rich to be a friend, as well as a hookup.

As Michael skidded around the corner into the school building, he stopped in his tracks when he realized that he really just needed someone to be close to. A friend.

An awful knot started crawling in his throat.

What a stupid, sad fantasy. Rich didn’t want or need him for anything more than an orgasm.

So yes, Michael was ready to end the whole thing. He was going to find Rich and confront him. Confront him to the extent that he could, at a school where he had no intention of outing himself.

He certainly didn’t expect Rich to invite him for a hookup in a practice room.

_Skip math with me and meet me in the first practice room_ , the text said.

Michael had picked up his phone and snorted, almost forgetting the last conversation they had in math. But of course, the memory of Rich’s sneer and venomous words were enough to make Michael harden his stance and ignore the text.

He still wasn’t sure what made him decide to go.

He stood in front of the door to the practice room, wondering why the hell he was here.

He gripped the doorknob, but didn’t turn it.

Something in his gut festered, telling him to turn around and get the hell out of that hallway.

Michael shook himself and twisted the knob. He opened the door in one smooth motion.

Rich was already in there. He spun around to face Michael.

“Hey,” Rich said, his face lighting up, “I wasn’t sure if you were actually going to come.”

Michael took a few steps forward and closed the door behind him. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Rich blinked. “What?”

Michael sighed. “Come on. You know the risks. And you can’t even let yourself be seen as my acquaintance, much less my fuck-buddy.”

Rich shoved his hands into his pockets. “I mean, I thought it was worth it.”

“I don’t,” Michael snapped. “Not anymore.”

Rich opened his mouth for a moment, as if he had something to say, but then he closed it.

“We can do this, but this has to be the last time,” Michael said, relaxing somewhat.

Rich nodded. “No, yeah, sure. Last time.”

“Good,” Michael said.

Rich stepped forward and reached up to hold the back of Michael’s neck. Michael felt Rich’s fingers intertwine behind his neck as Rich pulled Michael closer.

Michael closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the kiss. If this was going to be their last time, then he wanted it to be good, even if he was still bitter.

Rich held him tight, wrapping his arms around Michael as their lips locked. It almost felt frantic, the way Rich ran his hands from Michael’s hair to his back, never loosening his grip or letting Michael slip away.

Michael felt Rich’s hands slide under his shirt. Michael adjusted his arms to let Rich pull his shirt off. They paused for a brief moment before melting back together.

“Why does our last time have to be in a school practice room?” Rich mumbled in between kisses.

Michael exhaled slowly. Rich was collapsed into Michael’s shoulder. Michael could feel Rich’s lips pressed against his shoulder blade, but he wasn’t kissing anymore.

Rich was simply holding Michael tightly.

“You know how we can never really relax when we hook up at school,” Rich said, making a noise that could have been a shudder or a chuckle.

Michael’s eyes opened and widened, shocked at the vulnerability Rich was showing.

“Okay,” Michael finally said. “We can go over to your house later.” Michael paused. “But that has to be the last time. I don’t want to keep doing this.”

“Okay,” Rich said, picking his head up. He kissed Michael, once, on the lips. “We’ll make tonight really special.”

Michael grinned and cupped Rich’s face to kiss him properly.

Rich responded eagerly.

Michael ran his hands through Rich’s hair as Rich wrapped his arms around Michael, as if he was trying to touch him with as much surface area as possible. Michael held Rich’s face with one hand as he sucked on Rich’s bottom lip.

“Oh, my god.”

Michael froze. That wasn’t Rich’s voice. He pulled back and met Rich’s wide eyes. They turned toward the voice.

Jenna Rolan was standing in the doorway, her jaw on the floor.

Michael immediately pulled himself off of Rich. “Jenna, no, listen, it’s not what you—”

“It’s not what I think?” Jenna said, her eyes wide. “Holy shit. Holy shit. Oh, my god, This is crazy.”

“We just accidentally got locked inside—Rich will tell you. Rich?” Michael looked over at Rich.

Rich was completely frozen.

Michael watched in horror as Jenna pulled her phone out and began texting something.

“Jenna, no, please, don’t,” Michael begged.

“Oh my god,” Jenna said one last time, turning around and almost sprinting down the hall.

Michael turned to Rich, his throat completely dry. He wanted to scream but the words only came out as a hoarse whisper.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Michael didn’t bother waiting for Rich to respond. He needed to get out of that school building and go home. This building was a ticking time bomb, now. It was only a matter of minutes before Jenna spread the news to the fastest-running gossip chains.

He could see it now—the wave of texts that would most definitely come during his next class. Everyone would take a look at their phone, gasp, whisper, and then Michael would feel their eyes staring at him. Staring at him. Staring at him.

He needed to get out of this fucking school. All he wanted was to be at home, be away from this mess.

It’s too bad he rode the fucking bus. 


	6. Rich

All Rich remembered from the Halloween party was the haze of smoke, alcohol, and panic.

The weed was Chloe’s. The alcohol was Jake's. The panic was his own.

“You know I’m right, Rich,” his SQUIP said, standing in front of Rich with its arms crossed.

Rich was frozen, gripping a bottle of Jack Daniels. “There’s got to be a better way.”

His SQUIP laughed and rolled its eyes. “Oh, come on. Wake up, Rich, you’re almost at the top. There’s only one person higher than you at this school.”

“Jake,” Rich said, his voice shaking.

His SQUIP nodded. “I can give you what he has, but you have to do exactly as I say.”

Rich stared at the bottle in his hands. “If I set the fire…”

“Then these parties can happen at your house, not Jake's. You can take his place at the top, Rich, it’s as easy as lighting a match.”

Rich raised his head to look his SQUIP in the eye. “Let me think about it.”

His SQUIP glared at him. “Twenty minutes.” It shimmered and disappeared.

Rich almost collapsed onto the floor. He gasped and gripped his hair, stumbling toward the door.

The SQUIP wanted to start a fire. People would get hurt.

Oh god, he had to do something. He had to stop it from happening. He clawed at the back of his neck, wishing he could just rip the stupid computer from his brain.

He needed Mountain Dew Red. That would fry it.

Rich stumbled out of the room and back into the party.

“Got any Mountain Dew Red?”

Dustin shook his head.

Rich walked into the next room, trying desperately to still the panic stirring in his stomach.

“Got any Mountain Dew Red?”

Jake raised his eyebrow. “Hell no, that shit is nasty.”

Rich didn’t stick around, he stomped out of the room, ready to scream when a door was swung open into his face. It slammed shut just as fast, and he ran directly into another person.

It was that kid from his math class, the one that was friends with Jeremy. What was his name again? Marcus? Mathew? Michael?

That last one sounded right.

“—ell?”

Rich blinked as sound filtered back into his world.

Michael stared at him expectantly. Rich realized he had no idea what Michael had just said.

They don’t have to know you didn’t understand. You’re more popular than they are, just insult them and move on, the memory of his SQUIP’s voice sounded in his ear.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be at this party,” Rich said.

“Well done, you get an A in ‘unnecessary information’. I was leaving, anyway,” Michael deadpanned.

“Woah, woah, wait, wait, wait,” Rich said, throwing his arm out to block Michael’s path. “This is important.”

Michael stared at him.

“Do you have any Mountain Dew Red?”

When Michael said that he did, the huge weight on Rich’s chest lifted. He didn’t even care that he had to leave the party. He didn’t care that he had to sneak into Michael’s house to get it. He needed to destroy the thing in his brain.

He remembered drinking the Mountain Dew, and the searing pain that started at the back of his neck and swallowed his entire head.

He didn’t remember passing out, but he remembered waking up feeling like he was suffocating.

He laid there for awhile, wishing he could make himself say something or at least move a little to get Michael’s attention.

Oh yeah, Michael had his back to him, playing video games.

Rich was glued to the bed, struggling to breathe. Something was off. Something was wrong. This wasn’t right.

His whole body was tensed. He couldn’t think. He didn’t want to think. All he could do was feel the blanket on top of him

When he finally let out a strangled gasp, Michael spun around on his chair and grinned at him.

When Michael placed his hands on Rich’s face to get rid of his headache, it took every bit of Rich’s willpower not to collapse into Michael.

Just that bit of contact, Michael’s hands on his face, made Rich’s heart ache. He wanted to shudder and break down with relief. When Michael held his face like that, Rich forgot about being popular, about being the best, about every weight on his chest.

Rich couldn’t remember the last time his SQUIP let him be this close to someone that he wasn’t trying to fuck for a notch in his belt.

He couldn’t help it. He kissed Michael.

That was a mistake, but Rich didn’t care. When Michael kissed him back, Rich felt light flood into his world. Everything felt alright for that one moment. And when the kiss escalated, Rich felt heat spread throughout his entire body, pooling at his crotch and making the back of neck flush.

He almost laughed with glee; he had forgotten he was attracted to guys.

The magic of the moment was over, but Rich found himself kissing with new vigor.

He ended up giving Michael a blowjob, and Michael luckily had the decency to jerk him off afterward.

He remembered waking up the next morning, alone, with a post-it note stuck to his hand.

That was when he finally let himself break down.

—

They ended up making it a regular thing.

It was kinda nice to have something that his SQUIP didn’t achieve for him. This thing he had with Michael, it was his own. It was special, and kept far away from any prying eyes. This was something for them, and them alone.

He didn’t have to feel guilty for touching Michael and letting Michael touch him. It had been so long since he had meaningful contact with someone.

Some would say Rich had been touch starved. Rich refused to call it that.

He wasn’t touch starved, the SQUIP had him sleep with a lot of girls on his rise to popularity. Of course, it was always very animalistic. The SQUIP didn’t like it when Rich got sensual, and it never let Rich stay overnight.

But now, Rich had this thing with Michael.

Not even his friends knew. He didn’t breathe a word to Jake, or even Brooke. It was a little bit stressful to keep it a secret, but he did it anyway. Jake, Brooke and Chloe were hardly his real friends. They were friends with the version of him that the SQUIP created.

They wouldn’t give a damn about the way he was now.

There was no way they would give him the light of day if he tried to tell them what was going on. It wasn’t cool to be a guy who had breakdowns on the regular. It wasn’t cool to feel like an outsider with your friends. He was supposed to be easygoing, suave, and fun.

It was just hard to interact with his friends, now.

So many times Rich found himself turning around, expecting to see his SQUIP there, telling him what to do and what to say.

“Rich, what are you doing?” Jake said, waving a hand in front of Rich’s face.

Rich shook himself and grinned at Jake. “I’m fine.”

Jake shrugged. “If you say so.”

“I am,” Rich said, crossing his arms. “Seriously, dude, I’m fine, I would tell you if I wasn’t.”

Except he really wasn’t.

He was failing math. Every time he thought about it, he got a little sick. It wasn’t like he felt the need to be the best student, but everything he could no longer do by himself was another fucking thing the SQUIP stole from him.

He couldn’t talk to his friends anymore. His SQUIP had stolen that from him.

He had zero math ability. His SQUIP had stolen any chance of academic success from him.

_I win. You could get rid of me, but I still own you._

Rich flinched and hit his knees against his desk as he looked around frantically for the source of the voice.

Nothing. His SQUIP was nowhere in sight.

Rich sighed and relaxed. This had become a reoccurring issue—hearing his SQUIP and then realizing there was nothing there.

He stared at the top-right corner of his desk and focused on the sound of his breathing.

A paper was shoved into his vision.

Rich shifted his gaze onto the paper. It was the test they had taken last week; the first test Rich had taken without the help of the SQUIP. It was covered in red ink, every single question had at least something wrong with it.

There was no way this day could get any worse.

He felt someone’s gaze on him. He looked up and saw Michael quickly turn away. Rich carefully turned his test upside-down.

Well, he was wrong.

Rich wasn’t sure what made him text Michael about his test, and he certainly wasn’t sure what made Michael want to tutor him.

Michael offered to tutor him, and Rich said yes.

Michael wanted to meet in the library. Rich refused. They could be seen together in the library.

Michael suggested they meet at Rich’s house. Rich agreed.

He didn’t regret this until their first session, when Michael showed him some kind of human decency.

Rich had been absolutely fed up with graphs. He decided that he hated all of them; the U-shaped ones, the ones that made clovers on his page, the ones that made V-shapes. All of them.

“Now you’re just fucking with me,” Michael said.

Rich chose to scoff instead of scream. “I’m not! Look at that line—” he pointed along the graph, “—it approaches this invisible line, but never crosses it.”

Michael got up and sat behind Rich. Rich sighed, tossing his pencil across the room.

“The difference is—” Michael drew along the parabola, “—this one comes to a point and then comes back. The other one doesn’t.”

Rich sighed and slouched back into Michael. “It’s official. I’m failing math.” He wanted to fall asleep right there, leaning against Michael, listening to his gentle breathing.

Michael started to plant little kisses along Rich’s jawline. Rich pulled back. “I actually need the math help.”

“C’mon,” Michael said, fingers under Rich’s shirt, “this is the easy unit, we can take a break.”

Rich steeled at that. This wasn’t the “easy unit”, nothing was an “easy unit” anymore. He had to work three times as hard for half the results, now.

“Like hell we can,” Rich said, pulling down his shirt and pushing Michael’s hand away.

Michael didn’t respond.

“Sorry,” Rich said, running his hand through his hair, “The SQUIP would always just give me the answers and I—”

He stopped himself. There was no reason for Michael to know the extent of the damage the SQUIP did.

He sat there, frozen still, wishing he could just disappear.

Michael set down the pencil. Rich avoided his eyes, staring in horror at his own hands, which were shaking far too much to not be noticeable.

Rich felt Michael lay his hand on top of his arm. “You’re thinking too hard about it. You got this.”

Rich took a shaky breath. “Explain it again.”

Michael did.

—

Rich still heard the SQUIP, sometimes.

Maybe it was some form of PTSD. Maybe Rich had been without his own internal voice for so long that all he knew was the SQUIP’s voice. Maybe that demon computer was just always going to be a part of him, now.

Regardless of if the voice was real or not, it still managed to make Rich feel awful after every single hookup.

Mornings when Rich woke up alone were the worst.

Michael was gone, and Rich could only stare at his own walls as he let his mind be consumed.

_What are you doing? How is this supposed to help you?_

Rich never had an answer to that question.

Instead, he would sit on his bed, staring at his own hands, wondering why he kept doing this. When Michael was there, everything seemed easy and like the right choice. Everything fell apart when he wasn’t.

At least, when Rich was the one to leave, he could feel like he had some control over his life.

Of course, he would still be attacked by the voice in the back of his head. It was the most talkative for the next few hours after he hooked up with Michael, but it would leave him feeling guilty for days afterward.

Rich was being strangled by his thoughts until he kissed Michael again.

Then everything melted away, and Rich could breathe.

—

Rich hated it when Michael was nice to him.

It made him feel itchy and awful under his skin. He couldn’t stand it when Michael encouraged him to be vulnerable—it made the back of his neck tingle with phantom pain.

He didn’t know if Michael even knew he was doing it.

They were hooking up after school one day, the same as usual, but Rich hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. He had tossed and turned all night, the darkness of his room suffocating him. All he could hear last night was the voice of his SQUIP telling him things like _you can’t have it all, you need to cut your losses while you still can_ , and _this will all crash down unless you listen to me._

He really needed Michael to just make him forget about it all. He didn’t need Michael’s sympathy today.

Michael fumbled with the door and swung it shut behind them. Rich pushed Michael forward and began kissing him with more vigor.

_You shouldn’t be doing this, Rich. You’ll ruin your own life._

Rich flinched, but refused to listen. He raised his hand and cupped Michael’s face. He didn’t dare let go; everything was easier when Michael was near to him.

Except Michael pulled back and ran his hand down Rich’s arm. Rich felt Michael grip his hand tightly.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his eyes staring directly into Rich’s heart.

This was when Rich noticed that he was shaking. He didn’t dare look down to see his own hands tremble.

“Fine,” Rich said. The awful itchy sensation was crawling up his throat, now. Michael stood there, with his awful, kind eyes, and Rich couldn’t stand it anymore.

Rich could feel Michael’s gaze on him. “Are you sure? Because—”

“I’m fine,” Rich said, snatching his hand back.

Michael only looked at him.

Rich wasn’t fragile. He wasn’t something that was about to break if you shook it too hard. He wasn’t about to lose his mind, and dammit, he wasn’t supposed to be shaking. He shouldn’t be shaking, and Michael shouldn’t be looking at him like that.

Rich took a stuttered breath. He thought about leaving.

Michael was still looking at him.

“I’m fine,” Rich said, slipping his hand into Michael’s again. He took a deep breath.

“I’m fine,” Rich repeated, running his hand along the back of Michael's neck and twisting his fingers into his hair.

Maybe he could make their hookup so good Michael would forget the last thirty seconds.

—

Rich was not good at being bad at things. His SQUIP had always made everything easy, his SQUIP always had the answer, and now Rich had to figure that shit out for himself.

Rich detested his tutoring sessions with Michael.

Michael had such a brilliant mind, he could just pick up on everything instantly. There was no need to hammer facts into his skull to get him to understand. Michael’s eyes shimmered with intelligence, but Rich felt completely lost.

He was the one that needed the hammer to shove facts into his head.

When Michael was patient with him, that made it even worse.

“No, it’s easy, I promise.” Michael said in that gentle tone that made Rich want to rip his hair out.

Rich stared blankly at Michael.

“You try,” Michael said, pushing a paper toward Rich.

Those stupid eyes almost made Rich believe he could.

Rich took a deep breath and started drawing a tentative graph. “Okay, so I do this...here?”

Michael nodded and moved closer to Rich. “Try this,” he said, leaning over the paper and sketching something of his own.

He started to say something else, but Rich ignored it. Rich placed his hand on the side of Michael’s face, pulling him closer. He started to kiss and nibble Michael’s ear.

When Michael was turned on, he wasn’t talking about math.

And when Michael wasn’t talking about math, Rich wasn’t reminded of how stupid he really was.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked.

Distracting you.

Rich laughed. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

They ended up having sex, which Rich viewed as a success.

He had evaded Michael’s awful belief in him for another day.

—

“Alright class, settle down,” Ms. Frizzle said, shutting the door and strutting into the classroom. “Strap in, because today we’re diving into the differences between exponential functions and quadratic functions.”

“Bless you,” Dustin said from the back row.

Rich rolled his eyes and sighed. It wasn’t that difficult of a word to understand.

Ms. Frizzle narrowed her eyes. “Would you care to explain the difference between the two?”

Rich turned around to see Dustin scoff and slink back into his seat. He turned back around to the front, grinning.

Ms. Frizzle clapped her hands. “I’m so excited! We’ve covered these separately, but I think it’s just so fascinating to compare them!” She grabbed her marker and drew a graph on the board. “Now, a parabola is made with a quadratic function. Watch as it—” she drew the beginning of a U-shape, “—hits a point and bounces back. The exponential function won’t do that.”

Rich gaped at the whiteboard and Ms. Frizzle. Michael had said the exact same thing when he taught Rich.

Rich coughed and caught Michael’s eye. He pointed at his temple, and then flicked it toward the board.

Michael grinned at him, and nodded, confirming that he recognized the inside joke.

And for once, Rich didn’t feel suffocated by math class.

—

The feeling didn’t last long.

During lunch that day, Rich was sitting at his table, waiting for the rest of his crew to arrive.

Rich felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Dustin Kropp standing there with his lunch tray.

“I’ve got a question,” Dustin said.

Rich shrugged. “Shoot.”

“Were you laughing with that kid Michael?” Dustin asked.

The world suddenly closed in on Rich. “What?” he choked out.

“In precalc. I saw you guys laughing at something. What’s up with that?”

Rich’s blood ran cold. “No, I wasn’t. Why do you care?”

Dustin shrugged and sat back in his chair.

Rich didn’t move. He took in a few shallow breaths. He couldn’t let anyone else get suspicious.

It almost made him want to cry. The one good thing in his life, and he has to hide it away, keep it a secret, and hurt it to keep up appearances.

That’s what he had to do, right? That’s what his SQUIP would have wanted him to do.

So the next time Michael was friendly with him, Rich shut him down with “I don’t need your help, mister Nosy-Nancy.”

It hurt when Michael slinked back and refused to look at him for the rest of the day, but Rich thought it was worth it. Dustin quit bothering him.

It had to be worth it. Didn’t it?

 

* * *

 

It’s astonishing, really, how things can go from “alright” to “on-fire garbage can” in the span of a few hours.

Of all the people to catch them, it had to be Jenna. Jenna, the biggest gossip in the school.

News travels fast.

Rich made it home alright, but that evening his phone started buzzing and lighting up every few seconds.

_Jake: Dude there’s a rumor going around that you’re gay_

_Chloe: You know I want a GBF, but seriously? With that loser?_

_Brooke: Is it true?????_

_Dustin: Jenna caught you hooking up with another dude? I fucking knew it._

_MacKenzie: Heard you were gay. Was anything between us ever real?_

Rich’s fingers itched for his phone, but he didn’t pick it up. If he texted anyone about it, screenshots could become evidence. He didn't even want to try to correct them about their assumption that he was gay, because that would only confirm the story that he and Michael hooked up.

He dropped his head into his hands.

_See, what did I tell you?_

Rich flinched and whipped his head up.

_You shouldn’t_ _have been with Michael. Look at what you’ve done._

Rich pressed his hands over his face. “No,” he mumbled, “You’re not real, I got rid of you.”

_Your popularity is falling. People will hate you now._

Rich felt his throat constrict. “No, no, no.”

_Yes_.

Rich’s vision began to blur. His room swam in front of his face. “He made me happy,” he whimpered, “Why can’t I be happy?”

_Popularity will make you happy. You need it, without it you’re nothing._

“No, it didn’t. It won’t.”

_Quit lying to yourself, Rich,_ the voice of his SQUIP taunted him.

Rich fell back into his bed. He pressed his blankets over his face, trying to muffle the awful sounds of his own sobs.

—

“Rich!” Chloe said, running down the hallway, “Is it true that you’re gay and hooked up with that one guy in a closet?”

Rich sighed and pushed her off of him. “I’m not gay.”

_They can’t ever know the truth, Rich._

Chloe’s face fell. “Oh. Okay.”

Rich forced himself to grin at her before adjusting his footing and brushing past her.

“If you were, though, that’d be awesome,” Chloe shouted after him, her heels clicking on the tile floor as she ran to catch up.

Rich sighed.

“No, seriously,” Chloe said, stepping in stride with him, now. “I’ve always wanted a gay best friend. I can’t watch any show without finding two guys to ship, I just L-O-V-E it so much.”

Rich stopped walking and turned to face Chloe. “First of all? Stop. No gay person would ever want to be your best friend when you talk about them like that. Second of all, I’m bi. As in bisexual. As in I like girls and guys.”

Chloe’s jaw was on the floor.

Rich exhaled. “Yeah, and you can tell all your little friends about that. I really don’t care anymore.”

Chloe was still stock still.

Rich shook his head and walked past her.

—

Rich didn’t try to sit with his “friends” at lunch.

He walked past their table, but no one would even make eye contact with him. He really didn’t blame them, it would hurt their image not to shun the kid caught making out with another guy. It just wasn’t good to be associated with those kinds of people.

Those kinds of people, which somehow included Rich, now.

Rich found a table in a corner with a few people that didn’t look threatening. He sat alone, with the seats on his right and left both empty.

He picked up a chicken nugget and tried to eat it. It was dry, tasteless, and made him want to throw up. He pushed his tray aside and decided he wasn’t eating today.

He wondered where Michael was. Rich didn’t see him anywhere.

In fact, Rich hadn’t seen or heard from Michael since they were caught in the practice room.

Shouldn’t Michael at least be in the cafeteria?

Rich shrugged and laid his head back against the wall behind him. At least he could try and nap during lunch.

—

It was Friday. It was Friday and Michael still hadn't shown up at school.

Rich told himself he wasn’t worried. It was only three days of missed school, he shouldn’t be worried, right? There was no way he could be worried, anyway, he hardly knew the guy outside of their hookups and math sessions. He really didn’t know Michael at all.

But he knew someone who did.

“Jeremy,” Rich said, pulling Jeremy out of the lunch line.

Jeremy made a noise that sounded like a shriek. “What the hell?”

“I need to talk to you.” Rich pulled Jeremy down the hall and turned a corner.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Jeremy said as they slowed to a stop. “What do you need to talk about?”

“You need to talk to Michael.”

Jeremy gaped at him. “What? I tried already, he won—”

“Yeah? Try harder,” Rich said, whipping around to glare at Jeremy. “That stupid supercomputer fucked up both of our lives. Don’t let it fuck up Michael’s as well.”

“I…”

“Jesus Christ, Jeremy, open your eyes,” Rich said, taking a step back. “That thing wasn’t going to make you happy. It was never gonna make you happy. Stop blaming Michael for your own damn shortcomings.” Rich flinched internally at the sound of his lisp, but he didn’t let his glare waver.

“You, uh, have a…”

Rich almost rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, I have a lisp. And no, you can’t talk to me about the SQUIP. I’m going to leave now, and you’re gonna make sure everything gets back to normal.”

Rich turned his back to Jeremy and left, leaving Jeremy standing there, stuttering. Rich didn’t care.

He really had done all he could. If Michael wasn’t even showing up at school, he most likely wouldn’t want to see Rich, either. And in all honesty, Rich couldn’t think of one reason Michael wouldn’t hate him. It was his fault, after all, that they got caught. Michael didn’t even want to hook up at school.

He had done everything he could. Now, all he could do was wait.


	7. Michael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE. ARE. ALMOST. THERE. 
> 
> I actually have the very last scene of chapter 8 written already, so hopefully I can get that up asap
> 
> I intended this chapter to be a very healing chapter. It was for me (to write), so I hope it will be for yall as well

It’s true. Michael hadn’t gone to school for several days, now.

Every time he thought about the linoleum floors and the harsh lighting of the hallways, his stomach lurched. He thought about the stares and whispers he was going to get, now that Jenna had spread the news to the whole school.

Michael Mell. The gay loser kid.

Michael groaned and rolled over. Everything was bad and everything was awful. He now had a grand total of zero friends, so if he decided to go to school he would have to face the stares and whispers alone.

He thought Rich had cared, but it was becoming more and more obvious that Rich was cutting his losses to stay with the popular crowd.

That made Michael angry, more than anything else.

It was another morning, and Michael couldn’t convince himself it was worth it to get out of bed. His alarm had gone off at least thirty minutes ago, but he laid there, wrapped up in his blankets, not moving.

There was a knock at his door.

“Hey, honey.”

Michael sighed. “Hey, mom,” he said, rolling over to face her.

His mom was peaking around the corner of his door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

His mom opened the door and walked across the room. She sat down on the foot of Michael’s bed. “Still feeling bad?”

Michael nodded.

His mom pressed her hand to his forehead. “You don’t seem sick.”

“I feel sick.”

“Still?” His mom sighed. “I wish you would tell me what’s going on with you, Michael. I’m your mother. I worry.”

“I know,” Michael said, wrapping himself in his blankets tighter.

A pause.

“You can stay home again today, but you need to go back on Monday.”

Michael smiled at her. “Thanks, mom.”

She stood up. “I should be making you go to school today. You’re lucky it’s Friday.”

“Thanks,” Michael said.

She paused at the door. “I’m going to work. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The door swung shut, and Michael was alone.

He rolled back over and closed his eyes.

—

He woke up three hours later. He stared at his ceiling for a few minutes before pulling his blankets tighter and going back to sleep.

—

He woke up again. This time, he pulled himself out of bed and into his gaming chair. He turned on his console and shoved in the first game his hand landed on.

He turned off his brain and let his vision be consumed with the mindless routine of killing the on-screen characters.

—

He got tired of playing video games. He let his head fall back onto the back of his chair. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, right there.

—

He was awoken by the sound of somebody knocking on his window.

Michael looked up. He stared at his window for a second, wondering if he had imagined it.

_Knock. Knock._

No, apparently not.

Michael pushed himself out of his chair and dragged his feet over to the window. He pushed back the curtains and opened the window.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you, dummy,” Jeremy said, grinning back at him.

Michael sighed and walked back to his video game. “I’m only leaving that window open for your own safety. Feel free to climb through, then immediately exit my house.”

There were the sounds of Jeremy scrambling through the window. “Michael, please, I really need to talk to you.”

Michael scoffed. He didn’t look over to Jeremy. “I thought I made it clear that I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Michael, please,” Jeremy said. “I’m sorry.”

Michael turned around to see Jeremy staring at him. He was hunched over and looked so small, Michael almost had to do a double take.

“Fine,” Michael said. “You have five minutes.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said, running his hands through his hair, “Okay.” He sat down on Michael’s bed. “Okay, I didn’t think I’d get this far. Okay. Well, first of all, I really haven’t been acting like much of a friend lately.”

Michael snorted.

“Yeah, I know,” Jeremy said, staring at the ground. “I did some awful shit, and I can’t even blame that on the SQUIP. I’m really sorry.”

Michael nodded.

Jeremy cleared his throat. “Right. Okay. Anyway, I’m here to tell you that you need to go back to school.”

Michael really laughed at that. “Wow, okay, that was actually hilarious.”

Jeremy’s eyes flashed. “It’s not a joke, Michael. Some of us are really worried about you.”

“Who?” Michael asked against his better judgement.

“Me, mainly. And Rich.”

Michael didn’t respond.

“He was the one to told me to come talk to you,” Jeremy said, looking up. “I was in the lunch line, and he just yanked me out and told me th—”

“Why the hell were you worried about me?” Michael snapped. “You didn’t really seem to care when you were the one hurting me, so what if I don’t show up to school?”

Jeremy gaped at him. “Michael I—”

“Yeah, I know. You’re sorry. I heard you the first time.” He glared at a spot on Jeremy’s forehead. “But you haven’t been a very good friend lately, so forgive me for being skeptical.”

Jeremy closed his mouth. He opened it again, then closed it.

Michael scoffed. “I don’t know why I bothered. Get out.”

“No, no, no, no, wait, wait, wait,” Jeremy said, scrambling off of Michael’s bed to stand in front of Michael. “I’m sorry. I really am. I was worried that Chloe had gone through with her stupid plan, and that you were really upset about it.”

Michael paused. “What plan?”

Jeremy slouched with relief. “Oh, thank god. She wanted to invite you to a party, but she was gonna give you the wrong location so you’d be there alone.”

Michael froze. He blinked at Jeremy. “What the fuck?”

“I know, fucked up, right? They asked me to help, since you trusted me.” Jeremy inhaled slowly. “They wanted me to invite you to a fake party to humiliate you, but I didn’t do it. That was a line I wouldn’t cross.”

Michael stared at Jeremy. “Wouldn’t they have…”

“Oh, they kicked me out of their little group,” Jeremy said. “But for awhile, before I told them I wouldn’t do it, they held that shit over my head. Like some sort of blackmail.”

Michael sighed and lifted his eyebrows.

Jeremy huffed and looked off into a corner. “Actually, that’s when I tried to talk to you after chem.”

“You were in too deep,” Michael confirmed. “Yeah, I remember that conversation.”

“Anyway, that’s why I was a little freaked. I thought they had went ahead and done it anyway. There’s also a rumor going around that you’re gay, but you’ve never been affected by rumors before, so I didn’t think that was it.”

“That's…” Michael trailed off, not sure how to respond.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Jeremy said. “Especially since it was Jenna Rolan who started spreading it, and she’s really not reliable. She starts rumors all the time, just for the hell of it.”

“Jeremy, I…”

“Like once, she started a rumor that I was cheating on Brooke, but that—”

“Jeremy, it’s real.”

“—that just wasn’t true, I wouldn’t cheat on anybody, what an awful thing to do, wait, what?” Jeremy stopped and stared at Michael. “Did you just—did you just—”

“The rumor is real,” Michael said again, his voice more steady this time. “Jenna caught me and Rich making out in a practice room on Tuesday.”

“You and...Rich?” Jeremy was gaping at him again. “Of all the people, you hooked up with Rich? Well that explains a lot.”

Michael stared at Jeremy. “You mean you don’t care that I’m gay?”

Jeremy sighed. “Michael, what the hell do you think? With all the weird stuff I know about you, you think gay is going to be the final straw?”

Michael let out a strangled gasp. The awful pressure that had been gripping his heart and clawing at his insides was suddenly gone. Michael took a deep breath, shuddering as he exhaled. The lack of pressure behind his eyes was suddenly overwhelming. His eyes started to prickle.

“Michael? Michael are you okay?” Jeremy said, stepping closer.

Michael avoided Jeremy’s eyes. He pressed his hands to his face, begging his own eyes not to start crying.

Too late.

Warm tears were already running down his cheeks. Michael pulled his hands back, staring at them in horror.

“Oh my god, oh my—what do I do?” Jeremy said, pacing in front of Michael. He spun to face Michael. “Can I hug you?”

Michael looked up at Jeremy through his blurry vision. “Can you—Jeremy, what kind of question is that?”

“Right, okay. Sorry,” Jeremy said taking a few steps forward and wrapping Michael in his arms.

Michael collapsed into Jeremy. His arms were still tense and stiff, but he let himself press his face into Jeremy’s shoulder. He was making ugly crying sounds, completely involuntary and completely against his will.

He let himself be held for a moment.

He felt lighter, the stress trickling out of his body. Jeremy was holding on tight, in a position that couldn't be comfortable for him, but he wasn’t shifting around or pulling himself off of Michael. Michael let go of a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

He took a few deep breaths and finally let the feeling of relief set in.

“So, how did it happen?” Jeremy asked after Michael had relaxed somewhat. “What’s the hot 411? The goss? The story with all the deets?”

Michael inhaled slowly. “Oh, I hate you,” he said, grinning against Jeremy’s shoulder.

Jeremy snickered. “No, seriously, I want the story. How did you end up hooking up with Rich?”

“Oh, god. Okay.” Michael pulled back and wiped his eyes. “So there’s really a lot more to this story than you think. It all started on Halloween.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened. “Halloween? That was like...months ago.”

“Listen, okay,” Michael said, grinning. “It’s a long story.”

“Then hurry up and tell it,” Jeremy said, hopping into a beanbag.

So Michael launched into his story. He started at the beginning, with the party and the Mountain Dew Red. Jeremy’s eyes almost popped out of his skull when Michael told him they hooked up that first night.

(“You knew the real Rich for less than two hours, and you give him a handjob?”

“Shut up, Jeremy, I’m not done.”)

Michael told Jeremy about how they snuck around to hook up, how he definitely lost his virginity (“I can’t believe you lost your virginity before me”), and all of that fun stuff.

He told Jeremy how Rich struggled with math (“Yeah, the SQUIP did my math homework too”), how Michael found himself with actual non-sexual feelings toward Rich, and how he found himself wanting to help Rich dispite Rich’s cold shoulder.

(“So you’re telling me that you sorta fell in love with this guy? Former bully, who asked for your help doing math? That’s all it took?”

“No, it was because I could tell he wasn’t doing well. Sometimes, his hands would shake when we hooked up, but he wouldn’t ever tell me about it. I really just wanted to see him happy. He was always so peaceful whenever he fell asleep after we had sex. And I wasn’t in love with him, it was just a stupid crush.”)

He told Jeremy about the day Rich called him “mister nosy-nancy” in math class for trying to help (“He did what?!”), and about how he was so mad and wanted to call the whole thing off (“Good, you deserve better”).

“And that’s when Jenna walked in,” Michael said, dropping his hands. “The whole thing is, I still think I like him. God, you should have seen the way he froze when Jenna opened the door. It was like he had seen a ghost.”

Jeremy shrugged. “Just because he’s going through some shit doesn’t make it your responsibility. I mean, I had my own baggage and you still told me to fuck off.”

Micheal scratched at his face. “I just can’t help it. I think about his stupid smile, or his stupid face, and I want to just take him away from all of the nastiness in his head.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Michael said.

The door swung open. “Hey Michael, I hope you’re feeling bet—Oh, hi Jeremy.”

Jeremy grinned and waved. “Hi, Michael’s mom.”

Michael’s mom smiled warmly. “I haven’t seen you in quite some time.”

Jeremy shrugged. “I was being a pretty shi—I mean bad friend.”

Michael’s mom nodded. “I see. Well, you two have fun. Dinner at 7. You know the drill.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Michael said.

“You better start the dishwasher this time,” his mom said, turning and closing the door behind her.

—

Michael went back to school on Monday.

He didn't know what to expect from his peers. Judging by the way Jeremy thought the rumor was fake, he wondered if maybe everything would blow over.

People made eye contact with him less, but otherwise everything was fine.

Michael got used to being on edge. First period, he was internally flinching at the slightest noise, thinking he was about to be knocked on the back of the head with a paper ball. Every slight whisper he would instantly assume was about him.

By second and third period, he had relaxed somewhat. He was still sorta waiting for the other shoe to drop, but everything was going okay so far.

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right?

Michael walked into the lunchroom with Jeremy. He froze when he noticed Rich, sitting at a table in a corner, alone.

Rich looked up.

They locked eyes for a moment. Michael noticed Rich’s sigh from across the room. He watched as Jake approached Rich and sat down next to him. They exchanged a few words, and Michael watched as Rich’s face lit up. He almost hopped out of his seat to join Jake at their usual table.

Michael tore his gaze away.

“You alright, Mike?” Jeremy asked.

Michael took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said. “Come on, let’s go eat.”


	8. Breathe (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap......I am finally done with this.....
> 
> Ngl this last chapter was really hard for me to write, but it's finally here
> 
> Enjoy!

**Four Months Later**

Michael stared at himself in the mirror. Sweat framed his face. He glanced at the bathroom door before returning his gaze to the mirror. He took a deep breath, trying to ensnare a small moment of calm between the beats of the song blaring through the door.

He twisted the faucet and turned on the water. He wet his hands and rubbed his face.

He looked up again; blinking at himself. The sound of the faucet rushed in his ears as he studied the details of his face. Every small nook of his skin, every eyelash, and every smudge on his glasses.

He broke into a grin.

He hopped away from the mirror, pressing a hand over his mouth to hide his grin.

“Holy shit, this is really happening,” he whispered, spinning back around to face the bathroom door. “Holy shit, I am really here, at an actual teenager party—”

There was a sharp rap on the door. “Michael? Are you still in there?”

Michael swung open the door. “Jeremy, can you believe it?”

Jeremy grinned right back at him. “Our first party that isn’t just the two of us smoking in your basement. I’m, uh, not gonna count Halloween.”

Michael shrugged. “Yeah, no, for sure. You wanna go smoke in the basement though?”

Jeremy laughed. “You know me well.”

They were at Jake’s house for one of his big parties. Michael called it his spring-semester-midterm party, but he doubted that the mid-semester mark was what prompted Jake to throw a party.

Jeremy had gotten them the invite.

Apparently, Chloe was the only one who really despised Jeremy anymore. Everyone was pretty cool with Jeremy, and they never found out about the SQUIP.

That doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard to get an invite to Jake’s big spring party, though.

Jeremy had stopped hanging out with the popular kids when he and Michael made up. Jeremy told Michael that he really had no reason to hang out with them anymore—their version of fun and his version of fun varied significantly.

Unfortunately, that meant that he lost his standing with them. Michael learned that being popular was like a second job; you had to show up at hangouts regularly, or you risk being booted from the group.

“If you don’t use it, you lose it” applied to popularity too, apparently.

Michael told Jeremy that it didn’t matter. The popular kids didn’t hate them anymore, so they could live their lives in relative peace.

Michael had led Jeremy to believe that their social standing was quite alright. He encouraged Jeremy to keep some of their connections to the popular kids. He told Jeremy that it would help with the constant teasing and ridicule. He told Jeremy that it didn’t matter that Rich had been cold toward him.

Michael didn’t like to mention that he and Rich weren’t on good terms. Of course, Jeremy knew this, but it wasn’t something that Michael was constantly reminding him about. Michael wanted Rich to fade into a good story, instead of being in the front of his mind.

They hardly talked anymore.

Rich had dropped the only class they shared, and Michael lost his only excuse to keep up with Rich.

Some days were better than others. He really just missed the closeness of another person. Some days, he just wanted to hold somebody. He would often fall asleep to fantasies of holding and kissing Rich again.

Sometimes, his fantasies would sneak their way into his dreams.

He hadn’t told Jeremy the more personal touches to his issues with Rich, but Jeremy knew enough.

Michael was trying to convince him to make a move on Christine, though, and that took up a lot of their time. Jeremy was not someone that you could talk down from his rickety tower of anxiety. That didn’t mean Michael wasn’t going to try.

Michael tried not to think about the fact that Rich was at this party as well.

He shook himself before rushing down the hall. He ducked around the two kids making out, hopped around somebody else walking in the other direction, and ran to the basement door.

He swung the door open and froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar grin.

He whipped around. In the adjacent room, Rich was refilling his drink, his back turned to Michael. Michael couldn’t help it—he stared as Rich reached for another can of beer and cracked it open. Michael watched as Rich turned around and—

Oh. That wasn’t Rich.

“Jesus Christ, Michael, get it together or you’ll ruin this awesome night,” he whispered to himself.

Michael ran down the stairs to the basement to join the circle of high teenagers. Jeremy waved him over to a spot in the circle.

Michael danced around the other kids that were already sitting. He plopped down next to Jeremy, who grinned and gave him a mock-salute. Michael rolled his eyes.

“Hey Michael,” Dustin said, nodding at him.

“Oh, hey, Dustin,” Michael said, turning around. “What’s going on down here?”

Dustin shrugged. “We sorta have a game of Truth or Dare, but mostly it’s just waiting for the pot to come around.”

Michael grinned. “Cool.”

—

Michael couldn’t get himself off, anymore.

Not that he hadn’t tried. Several times now, he had pulled up Pornhub and got out the lotion, but it just wasn’t exciting. His body didn’t react to his own hands the way it used to. Sure, if he worked hard enough, he could reach orgasm, but he kept getting bored before he reached that point.

That sure as hell didn't stop him from trying, though.

He was home alone, so he had long since changed into his favorite sweatpants.

He flipped on Netflix and hopped onto the couch. He laid over the whole couch; there was nobody to interrupt him, now.

He picked a show after flicking through the “Recently Watched” section of Netflix. He hit enter and sighed as he leaned back on the couch. The Office’s theme song blared in the living room.

Three episodes in, he stuck his hand down his pants.

He let his mind wander from the show, letting the dialogue wash over his mind as he felt himself.

Five minutes later, and he was still bored. He was still horny as hell, but apparently self-stimulation just didn’t do it for him, anymore.

“Fuck you, Richard Gornaski, for ruining masturbation for me,” Michael said, letting his head flop back down onto the couch.

He sighed and stared at the ceiling for a moment before rolling over and letting his attention fall back to his show.

—

“I’m gonna ask Christine out tomorrow,” Jeremy said, twisting his remote to get Toad to twist past a curve on the TV screen.

“Oh?” Michael asked, flying down the straightaway into a question box. Or Yoshi did, rather.

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “I mean, prom is coming up, right? That seems like an okay situation. If she doesn’t like me, she would probably think I meant as friends.”

Michael snorted. “Okay, whatever you say.”

“I’m serious! I’ve given this a lot of thought.”

Michael laughed. “I never said you didn’t. I’m supportive of this idea, although it did take you, what, six months to come up with it?”

Jeremy huffed. “Prom only comes once a year.”

“Dude, I’ll help you ask her. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, I was just gonna, y’know, text her?”

Michael paused the game. “Let me get this straight—you were gonna text Christine, to ask her to prom?”

Jeremy grimaced. “Yes?”

Michael shook his head. “Oh, no. You’ve got to do a promposal.”

Jeremy went beet red. “No! That’s too much of a big deal!”

Michael shrugged. “She’s a theatre kid. Do you think a text is gonna be enough?”

Jeremy sighed. “Okay. Okay fine. You’re right. But—” Jeremy fell back in his beanbag chair— “I can’t fucking do that.”

“Sure you can,” Michael said, knocking Jeremy's arm. “You don’t have to make it a huge deal, and you don’t have to do it in public. Just get some flowers—yellow or blue, so she could still interpret it as friendship—and tell her to meet you after school somewhere.”

Jeremy raised his arms and let them fall onto his face. “Okay, fine,” he said, his words muffled by his arms.

“What, really?”

Jeremy sighed. “Yes.”

Michael fist-pumped. “Awesome! I can’t wait.”

Jeremy groaned and sat up. “What about you?”

Michael blinked. “What about me?”

“Do you have anyone you were planning to ask to prom?”

Michael shook his head. “Not really. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a thing with anybody. And you would know if I did.”

Jeremy sighed. “Yeah, that’s true. I thought it was a long shot, but I wanted to try anyway.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Wow.”

Jeremy hit Michael. “Shut up and play the game. I was kicking your ass.”

Michael pressed the button to return to the home menu. “Oh, were you in first? I hadn’t noticed.”

Jeremy gaped at him. “Did—did you—did you just—”

Michael turned to Jeremy with a grin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I am gonna kill you.”

—

At least Michael had Jeremy back. He would take his best friend over a stupid hookup every day of the week.

It’s not like he didn’t miss Rich, but they spent most of their time being horny teenagers. That wasn’t really something that he could complain about missing, at least not without admitting he didn’t get anything from masturbartion anymore.

What he really missed were the small moments. Those times when Rich fell asleep, and Michael could really see the way Rich was more peppy the next morning. The moments when Michael could feel his heart race when Rich grinned at him from across the hall. The moments when they both knew they had something secret and special.

Of course, it wasn’t secret anymore. Michael was pretty sure that Rich didn’t see it as anything special anymore, either. It didn’t help that Michael still clung onto all the memories with a vice-like grip.

He had his best friend—someone to have his back and someone to rant to. Jeremy listened to him everytime he wanted to complain about the latest time he ran into Rich in the hallway without a conversation. Jeremy even gave him advice that burned his ears. Even so, he would take his best friend over Rich any time.

Sometimes he wished he could have both, though.

—

Math class was less awkward since Rich transferred out.

First semester, everything was fine, but second semester, Rich was gone. Without explanation or warning, he dropped the class and Michael lost his only excuse for talking to Rich.

Before Rich dropped, they would occasionally text. Simple stuff, like “do we have a test tomorrow?” or “Can you tell Ms. Frizzle I’ll be late today?” Simple messages that reminded Michael that Rich wasn’t completely lost to him. They were reassuring.

Michael had no idea Rich was in failing condition. There was no other reason the counselors would transfer him out.

It didn’t surprise him, though. He had no idea how Rich had been doing since they stopped hooking up. Rich hadn’t asked him for any math help since the Jenna incident, either.

Still, sometimes Michael found himself looking around the classroom for Rich, only to see someone else in his seat.

And every time, he was both disappointed and relieved.

—

Michael didn’t know when it happened. He didn’t know when he stopped being angry at Rich, and started longing for his company again. Maybe wasn’t ever really angry, just scared and panicked.

He didn’t know when he stopped being upset and started just being tired.

He was tired of the little charade they kept up, making eye contact from across the hall and then going their separate directions. He was tired of feeling an awful creature claw it’s way up his throat every time he opened his mouth to talk to Rich. He was tired of the same routine crushing him under its daily wheel.

He was tired of feeling like he was the one who lost.

—

Michael stood in the parking lot, staring off into space.

He didn’t make a move to walk toward his car. Instead, he stood there, letting the soft breeze thread through his hair and brush past his face. The sun wasn’t out, instead the clouds gave off a muted light. The air was cool, but not cold. He took a deep breath, reveling in the sensation of the cool air rushing into his lungs.

“Yo!”

Michael jerked up. Jake was waving his arms from across the parking lot. Michael turned his head and saw Rich wave back.

He watched as Jake and Rich fist-bumped. Rich said something, and Jake bent over as he laughed. Michael watched as Rich waved Jake off, and they started conversing again.

Michael shifted his balance, wishing he could get himself to turn away and just walk to his car, but his feet were rooted firmly in the ground. He couldn’t walk away, and he couldn’t look away.

Jake gestured toward Michael. Michael blinked.

Rich shook his head and tried to walk away, but Jake pulled him back. They exchanged a few words before Rich visibly sighed and started to walk over.

“What’s up with that?” Jeremy asked from behind Michael.

Michael shrugged.

“You think he’s gonna try and talk to you?”

Michael shrugged again. “Don’t know, Jer.”

“What are you gonna say?”

Michael watched as Rich approached, the details of his face and hair getting more clear as he came closer. Michael made direct eye contact; he didn’t blink or turn away.

“Hey,” Rich said, stopping in front of Michael.

“Hey,” Michael said.

Rich looked back at Jake for a moment, before turning back to Michael. “Can we talk?”

Michael turned to Jeremy.

Jeremy’s eyes bugged. “Are you kidding? Freaking go!”

Michael snorted. He turned back to Rich. “Sure.”

Rich gestured to the sidewalk. “Can we walk?”

“Sounds good to me.”

They started walking down the sidewalk together. Rich sighed and stared forward. Michael scoffed as he turned his gaze directly ahead as well. He exhaled slowly, wishing Rich would turn and look him in the eye.

The closeness was a little uncomfortable, and Michael occasionally found himself walking on the grass beside the sidewalk or the curb.

He didn’t like the moments when they were both on the sidewalk. Their arms would swing, close enough to brush arms, and it made Michael uneasy. It was too close to holding hands.

“So how have you been?” Michael asked, after a minute of silence.

Rich shrugged. “I’m alright. You?”

“Alright,” Michael repeated.

“Cool.”

Another silence stretched between them. Michael stared at the side of Rich’s face as Rich stared straight ahead. Michael sighed and turned his head to watch his feet hit the sidewalk.

Rich sighed.

Michael looked up. “What’s up?”

Rich grimaced. “Right, I should probably start talking.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Rich inhaled slowly. “I know I kind of ruined your life, but I miss you.”

Michael stopped walking. “Since when do you talk about your feelings?”

Rich shoved his hands into his pockets. “Since I started seeing a therapist,” he said, not breaking stride.

Michael ran to catch up with him. “How the hell do you talk about a SQUIP with a therapist?”

Rich sighed. “I told ‘em it was an abusive partner. Or at least, that’s what I've led them to believe.”

“And that worked?”

Rich shrugged. “I mean, it sorta fits. The obsessive grip over my life, the micromanaging, the need to make me popular. It’s as close to the truth as I’m gonna get.”

Michael exhaled slowly. “I see.”

“I mean—it really was. It isolated me, made me dependent on it, and now I don’t know how to handle myself without it,” Rich said, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets. “Or, at least that’s what my therapist told me.”

Michael stared at Rich. “So why now? Why are you talking to me?”

Rich scratched at the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Just something I’m working on.”

Silence fell between them. Michael kicked at the grass as he walked. He stared at the light poles; he watched them move steadily closer and slowly pass. He tried not to pay too much attention to the sound of his own heartbeat, or the sound of his own breathing.

“Do you think we could start over?” Rich said suddenly.

Michael looked up. “Wha—”

“We could start with something small, and just have fun together? Just to see how it goes?”

“Like a date?” Michael asked, fighting back a smile, “What were you thinking?”

Rich bit his lip. “How do you feel about Prom?”

Michael sighed and looked over at Rich.

He didn’t want to get back together. Not that they were together in the first place—Michael didn’t know what the hell their relationship status had been—but Rich had still avoided talking to him for months after the whole Jenna thing.

But prom?

Prom could be a good start. Two high schoolers, dancing the night away, surrounded by friends and good music. Prom was a huge landmark, and it was more fun to have a date by your side. A date, who was standing next to Michael, biting his lip and staring at a point just above Michael’s head. A date that who had gone through some tough shit, and was finally asking for help in his own small way.

Michael’s face broke into a grin. “I think that sounds bangin’.”

**END**

 

* * *

 

Notes on the chapter titles:

They're all verbs written to be like commands with 3 exceptions.  
“Halloween” (the inciting incident),  
“Rich” (the very important Rich POV chapter),  
“Michael” (which is a michael-centric chapter, meant to directly contrast with Rich’s chapter)

All the verb chapter titles are "-ate" words except the last command (“Breathe”), the epilogue, to show that the epilogue is different, that things won't be the same as before. We will take a deep breath and move on, hopefully in a better way than before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so we finally made it. I hope you guys enjoyed this story! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr (upsidearound.tumblr.com) if you want to send me prompts or commission me! 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me :)


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